The Royal Game
by MerryLittleMess
Summary: Set after Season 3. (Spoiler Alert!) Nick is struggling to come to terms with his humanity, Renard is slowly recovering and Trubel thinks about leaving Portland for good. But all their problems are set aside when an old foe of Renard makes his move, putting multiple lives at stake with his ruthless desire for power. Rated T for swearing, fighting and some Renard and Nick whump.
1. White Knight

**A/N: **

Me: Hey guys! This is my first story to be published - ever. I'd love some Reviews or Ratings!

Inner critic: She doesn't own Grimm or any of the characters involved. And she's hasn't even watched all Grimm episodes yet.

Me: Oh, shut up! Where was I?** R&R, please! Enjoy!**

**The Royal Game**

**Chapter One: White Knight**

"No! No, I'm not gonna do it!" Five exasperated looks pierced Nick Burkhardt. Rosalee, Juliette, Monroe and Renard were acting like strict parents, dealing with a rebellious child, Nick thought, filled with annoyance. How hard could it be to understand that he valued his independence more than his safety? They were all overreacting, his Blutbad friend being the best example.

"Things have changed, Nick! With you not being a Grimm any more", his Wesen friend shot back, then cringed as Rosalee stepped on his foot. "Of course it's only temporal. Just until we can figure out how to turn you back into that ass-kicking, scary guy, you know?"

"I said no."

"Maybe you should consider it. We don't know whether the Verrat have given up on killing you and, seriously, you can't deny you've made some powerful enemies. I'm sure we could arrange everything..." Even Juliette was siding with them. Wouldn't they ever stop?

Crossing through his assembled friends, he came up to face Trubel. Lately she seemed to be the only person that didn't want to persuade him to do anything. She simply hung back and made sarcastic comments – something he'd learned to appreciate. Now the girl was leaning against the door-frame, watching the argument with a disinterested look. However, when she did give her opinion, it was the same as the others. Pledge yourself to the Royal. Trust the Captain, he'll make sure you're one safe little human. Nick was relieved when a text from Hank provided an excuse to get away.

"What is it?", Renard asked, recognizing Nick's mien as the one that meant police business.

"Got a robbery down at twenty-second", Nick said, masking his delight by turning away to grab his jacket and then nodding to his Captain in apology, who was waving him off. Monroe also reached for his coat, obviously wanting to accompany him to the scene.

"Don't. I need some time to think. And I'm not a helpless kitten, I brought a gun. See?" God, was he tired and so sick of it all. If Adalind had wanted to make him a close acquaintance to desperation, she would have already achieved her goal.

"I still think..."

"No."

"But what if..."

"Let him go. The offer still stands, he'll accept it when he's ready", Renard said from his position on the couch. Even injured, his words carried enough weight for Monroe to let Nick pass. This was embarrassing. Nick hated the thought of being the weak link so much he could barely live with himself these days. Then his hand closed around the cold object in his pocket. There were a few choices that were still his own.

"Renard, catch!" Nick turned around halfway and tossed his Captain the artifact. There was a moment of astonished silence while the Prince eyed the key. Once he'd stolen it, now he received it as a gift.

"It's the real one, in case you were wondering." Renard's face didn't betray any emotions, whereas his friends seemed a little shocked. Even though they were in possession of two keys, giving one to the Prince of Portland had clearly not crossed their mind. Nick, on the other hand, had spent quite a long time thinking about the subject. After recent events, for example the break-in at the spice-shop last week, he had found it prudent to separate the keys. And judging from the guarded expressions of his friends, they weren't arguing.

"Thank you, Nick. Rest assured I will take care of it", Renard said earnestly and got up to show him to the door. His movements were careful, and although his expression stayed regal and blank, he had to have been in pain. Three bullets in the chest weren't a slight injury, no matter how the Prince tried to play it down. On his way to the crime scene, Nick pondered whether his trainee Grimm might have a crush on the injured Captain. She was kinda acting strangely whenever he was around since she'd saved his life – decapitating a Verrat assassin in the process. He just hoped she wasn't thinking about leaving again, they needed a Grimm in Portland and honestly, Nick was grateful for the protection for Juliette she provided..

"Even if she is, I wouldn't be able to convince her otherwise. She's as stubborn as I am", he said, feeling resigned. Shots in the distance pulled him back into reality. What was going on there? With screeching brakes, he arrived in front of an exclusive Armani fashion store.

"There is another of them buggers inside! And he's got a gun!", one of the patrol officers informed Nick, who held his gun ready. There windows of the shop were broken, ammunition sprawled on the sidewalk. Could very well be a P.15 Standard, Nick realized, judging from experience and the shells. At the same moment, a small door at the back of the house opened and a man stuck his head out. More shots rang through the air as the criminal fired at the cars blocking the exit. When the officers had taken cover, the gunman exited in full run. Nick gave chase without thinking.

"Hold! Portland PD!" Of course the robber didn't stop, rather shooting blindly over his shoulder. The Detective dove behind a trashcan. Eight, nine, ten, eleven. The attacker had five shots left at most, so Nick fired his own gun into the air. The provocation worked as the fleeing robber used another three bullets.

"It's over! Drop the weapon and surrender!", Nick shouted, knowing from the layout of the streets that both branch-offs were dead ends. Slowly, he risked a look at the man, also noticing his back-up at the far end of the alley. Determinedly, he motioned for them to stay back as there was no cover whatsoever for them until they would reach the trashcan. He might not be Grimm anymore, but he had this.

"Get out of my way or I'm gonna shoot everyone!", the robber threatened from around the corner. Nick shot the stone right next to the criminal, receiving another return. The head had disappeared, although Nick couldn't hear any retreating footsteps. That meant that the robber had to be right behind the wall, closer than six feet away, probably scared out of his mind and tense as a drawn bow, hand on the trigger. The Detective smiled and pushed the trashcan in the direction, using both his feet for maximal force. Rumbling loudly, the container moved.

"What the fuck?!" His ploy had worked, a bullet was hitting the can with a metallic bang. Now! Nick sprinted around the corner, not flinching when a gun was presented and triggered right in front of his face, enjoying the hollow clicking sound. Expertly, he cuffed the robber and brought him out into the street.

"You're under arrest. Everything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney...", Nick explained smugly, shoving the man into a waiting police car. He was so drunk on the moment that he didn't even notice the man staring daggers at him from the front seat of a car.

With a dark look in the direction of the robber, Renard backed out of his parking space and returned to the precinct.

_The Prince of Scotland shook his head in disbelief. He was tempted to ask whether his informant was absolutely sure about the issue, yet he knew that the man didn't make any mistakes. The Reaper did know what the costs for mistakes would be._

_"How careless", he said and allowed himself to smile. Renard had finally made an error, making an irrational decision that would cost him dearly once the Scotsman's plan had been launched._

_"Unless you already have the key and he's become a burden", the Prince mused, "Which means you want us to snatch him up. What do you gain by the Grimm's death?" The answer was easy: if Nick Burkardt was killed, nobody would be able to get to the key, because nobody was alive to tell where it was hidden._

_"Except yourself, my favorite foe. It would be a smart move indeed, as nobody would dare to touch a Royal. You would have the device for yourself." Hearing the situation out loud, the Prince was convinced his deductions were faultless. Now, what could be done about it? He needed leverage, something to tell the council so they would declare his old rival fair game._

_After a moment of consideration, he allowed the informant to rise from his knees. As soon as the huge man stood, the Prince threw a dagger at him, which the man caught effortlessly. They shared another humorless smile as the informant read the name on the blade._

_"When do you want it done?"_

_"Soon."_


	2. En prise

**Chapter two: En prise**

Renard stood in his office, rooted to the ground. He blinked slowly, convinced that the woman standing right in the middle of the department couldn't be the sexy blond nightmare he had come to know very intimately. Adalind Shade was winking at him through the glass.

"What are you doing here?" He grabbed her and roughly escorted her into his office. As soon as the door was shut, the last bit of civility failed him. Barely, barely he managed to keep himself from Woging. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and blocked the door. She was not going to leave until he knew what was going on.

"It's a pleasure to see you as well", she snapped, not intimidated by his angry posture in the least. Her smile was wide but never reached her eyes, which were void of happiness. They betrayed the loneliness she so desperately wanted to hide. In spite of his current antipathy for her, Renard felt a pang of sympathy. That didn't mean he trusted her one little bit, but his voice became slightly warmer.

"What is it this time, Adalind? You would never come here without an agenda." It was neither a compliment nor a curse.

"Straight to the point. Very well." At once her pale smile transformed into a confident look, meaning she had something he needed. Renard was sure he wouldn't like whatever she would say next. His only solace was that Nick was far away from the precinct, at least semi-safe with Hank.

"I had an interesting conversation with your family a few days back", she said, sitting down on his chair. Her elegant hands folded on his desk, patiently waiting for a reaction Renard wasn't going to give. Stoically, he listened to the rest of her tale.

"Apparently, you have attracted the extreme displeasure of His Highness, The Prince of Scotland. He was quite furious that you still hadn't handed over the key, even though they had provided extra help." So this is what they call it these days, Renard thought darkly. Turning his asset, a Grimm, into a mere human. Help.

"And as you weren't making any progress, they sent people to... secure Nick and bring him to them."

"Nick, to the Royal residence in Vienna?", Renard asked sceptically. Political relations were always tense, especially since he had survived the assassination attempt and taken his revenge on the responsible parties. Nevertheless, he and his were untouchable. As if she had read his mind, Adalind fixed an accusing stare at him.

"No, to Scotland. You should have made him one of your subjects, Sean. It would have stabilized his position." And yours. Renard could hear the addition in her voice. Did she still care? If not, why else was she here? Could her tale be true? And even if it wasn't, what did he have to lose by checking it out?

"Fine. Let's say I believe you. What would you have me do?"

"Call Nick. Get him to come here and explain it to him right now", Adalind urged, nervously playing with his ballpoint pen. Renard's eyebrows narrowed in suspicion.

"When are they going to make their move?", he asked, stepping up to the table to look down on her worried expression. The answer was obvious even before he heard it.

"I don't know. Tomorrow, in a month? Or perhaps they already have."

_Hank and Nick were playing a happy game of Who-catches-the-craziest while they were supporting Sgt. Wu's search for a witness. The stairs, placed in the middle of the shabby six-story building they were in, provided a perfect meeting ground and after each turn to knock at all the doors and collect statements, they would compare stories and then head off into their own direction again. Nick had chosen to take the right wing and so far he had scored three of four points._

_"I've got twins", Hank said in triumph. "They were absolutely identical, blond and extremely hot. All long legs and sexy smiles, you know what I'm saying? Sadly, they were only speaking Russian, which is even more unfortunate, because I think one of them was hitting on me. Man, maybe I should have taken the language classes when they were offered last year." Nick laughed, louder and longer than the joke warranted, but he felt good and wanted to show it. Being a cop had not been his first priority lately and he'd missed it._

_"Most of the people on my round weren't even at home", he said lamely._

_"Sore loser."_

_"Not true as I'm not the one who's losing", Nick teased and smiled when Hank made a rude gesture. Together they climbed up the next flight and opened their doors to the dimly lit halls on each side._

_"See you later", Hank said lightly and vanished behind the thick iron door that was supposed to decrease the echoes from the stairwells._

_"Yeah."_

_"Showtime", the man in front of the computer screen told his partners. He erased the data from the four cameras that had been placed in the building and destroyed the hard drive to make sure. His associates took up their positions next to the door when they heard the approaching steps of the Detective._

_"Hello? Open up! Portland PD! Is anybody home?"_

_"Yes, just a moment", the only woman in the room answered. She had her fake smile ready and grinned at the man in front of her through the slight gap she had opened._

_"How can I help?"_

_"There have been several break-ins in this building. Have you heard anything strange on Thursday night?"_

_"Actually, there has been something... but I don't know, it's probably nothing, maybe you should...", she said, playing shy and retreating a little further into her living room. Excitement was evident on the human's face when he pulled open the door and followed her in. That's all the three armed men needed. In a second, they were on him, clubs held ready. Nick Burkardt hardly had time to recognize he was under attack before two solid bodies collided with his own._

_"What the...?!" Even though surprised, the target was fast. He'd avoided one of them with a quick turn of his shoulders and pushed the other man away while falling. As soon as he touched the ground, he rolled and came back to his feet. It would have been enough if he'd been a Grimm. If he'd been a little faster, a little more observant. But with only the adrenaline working in his favor, he'd missed the third hitman at the back of the room. Therefore, he didn't see well-aimed blow coming and only felt a blinding pain at the side of his face before he collapsed to the dirty floor, unconscious._

_The third man noticed the carnage in the small room, the broken vases and the curtain that had been torn from the windows by one of his comrades when he'd fallen._

_"Well, that went about as smoothly as expected", he commented sourly._


	3. Zugzwang

**Chapter three: Zugzwang**

For the first time in weeks, Trubel didn't think about leaving. Originally, she'd planned to go to Chicago or New York and try to make a new life within the next week, because depending on other people – even generous and friendly ones like Juliette and Nick – simply sucked. Trubel needed space to breathe. Yet she grabbed Juliette's hand to steady the woman when Hank, Renard and Monroe showed up at the house with grave looks about them.

"Where is Nick?", Trubel wanted to know without waiting for introductions. They could say hello to each other once the important matters had been settled.

"We don't know", the handsome Police Captain answered. Before either Juliette or Trubel could ask for more information, the man held up his hands.

"We can discuss everything inside in a moment, but there is someone else with me. She might have valuable intell, so don't kill her."

"She?", Juliette said, as white as the wall. Both women already suspected who was sitting in the Captain's car, so they weren't shocked when Adalind came up the stairs to greet them – well, not that shocked. Trubel instinctively took hold of her dagger and glared at the blonde. No way she was going to let that Hexenbitch pass into her makeshift-home.

"Hello." She even had the nerve to smile! Trubel gritted her teeth and pulled the dagger out of its sheath, making no effort to hide the gleaming metal.

"You're not welcome here. Leave", she said sharply while playing with the knife. Juliette's grip on her arm tightened, but whether it was out of approval or to stop her from doing anything stupid, Trubel didn't know. Didn't care, really. Then the redhead pulled her out of the way as Renard entered the house, Hank and Adalind following in his trail.

"Why did you do that?", Trubel asked angrily, but gave the answer herself, "Because Nick has to be in trouble or else Renard wouldn't bring the bitch with him. And you trust Renard."

"I do." They all sat around the table – the seats on either side of Adalind staying empty – and Hank quickly outlined how he had waited for Nick to report back on a routine job, then gotten impatient and stumbled onto the trashed apartment. Apparently, he'd even seen four people scaling down the house wall, one of them carrying a man on his back.

"I couldn't get a clear shot. They were using him as a shield", Hank finished, wringing his hands in obvious frustration. Self-pity isn't going to get us anywhere, Trubel thought with just a hint of empathy for the Detective. He shouldn't blame himself, he couldn't have protected Nick every second, she thought, thinking of the stubbornness of the Grimm-turned-human.

"Adalind is convinced that one of my family members abducted him", Renard stated calmly. During the whole tale he hadn't even blinked - not that Trubel had been watching - and he seemed so sure of himself that she hardly remembered his injury. Stop staring, she warned herself, or else he might notice. And wouldn't that be embarrassing?

"Which family member?", she asked, mostly to divert her attention from the Captain. Contrary to Monroe and Juliette, she wasn't shaken from the news, merely curious and more determined than ever. Nobody hurt her friends and got away with it.

"Alistair, The Prince of Scotland. We've been... adversaries for a long time." As the Captain didn't seem inclined to elaborate and there were far more pressing concerns, she let it slide and posed the all-important question.

"What do we do about it?"

"We were too late to stop the flight", Hank grumbled, "There really is no other option. We've got to go and get him back."

"F-fine. When... when do we leave?" Juliette's voice was so thin that they could barely hear her, but her face was set in the same determined stare Trubel knew showed on her own face. Yet she wondered whether it was wise to take Nick's love along for the ride – wouldn't she be a liability when it came to the fighting?

"Listen, Juliette...", Renard started, only to be interrupted immediately.

"No, Sean! You listen! I've been the good little lady long enough. I've been lied to by you and everybody else for years, I've been under a gruesome spell, I've been hunted by zombies, I've been shot at, kidnapped and otherwise attacked by Wesen. And now I've even let her", she pointed a finger at Adalind, "into my house again after she slept with my husband. I can – no, I'll have to – endure all that, but I'm not standing on the sidelines any longer. I can't." Nobody knew what to say after that. Hank and Monroe had a guilty look on their faces and certainly wished to be elsewhere, Renard seemed thoughtful and Adalind still smiled. Trubel herself tried to decide whether to defend Juliette's opinion. In the end she kept quiet, torn between knowing what Nick would have wanted and her growing respect for his girlfriend. Finally, the Police Captain placed a hand on the table.

"The flight has already been booked. I expect you to be at the airport in an hour." By all means, Trubel mentally commented, go ahead and sign us all up. But it didn't matter because he was right and none of them needed time to consider the risks or anything.

_Nick stared at the Prince, not giving an inch. He'd hadn't been released of his handcuffs when they'd shoved him into a damp dark cell and was now trying to pick the locks. At first he'd shouted insults at anyone near him, but luckily his mind had taken over again before his captors came and started to ask questions. They had generously informed him that the old man in the corner could detect lies, so he'd chosen not to say anything._

_"Where is the key?" Nope, not going to tell ya. The Detective shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the cold stone wall at the back. As much as he tried to look at ease, there were doubts and fears gnawing at his insides and his act didn't fool anyone._

_"Where is it? Tell me and things won't have to get ugly", the man that had introduced himself as being a Royal threatened. He didn't fool Nick either. His anxiousness might have been less obvious, but could be detected if one took his time to examine him carefully. The posture with his hands in the pockets of the expensive suit was meant to be regal and relaxed, yet the set yaw belied his aura of confidence. Why was he tense? He had all the cards in his hands... realization hit and Nick smiled._

_"Ugly for you, once the rest of your family knows what you've done. Breaching another Prince's canton, I wonder, what is the penalty for that? You guys never seemed to be the forgiving kind, so I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's death, or..." He didn't get to finish his sentence, because the Prince had stepped inside the cell as fast as lightning and hit him in the face with incredible force. There was an audible crack and Nick's head slammed against the wall. Only the grip of the Royal held him upright._

_"Where is the key?" Through a dark haze, Nick blinked and spat blood on his captor's shoes. He didn't feel heroic at all and there was no need to get beaten._

_"It's in my desk at the precinct", he answered, trying to sound guilty. The old man in the corner shook his head. Damn, so that part hadn't been a lie, Nick thought and gasped for air as multiple hits landed in his stomach._

_"Where?"_

_"I don't have it anymore." That much truth wouldn't hurt. Slowly, the Detective put his back against the wall and shot a look of pure hatred at the Prince, whose grip on Nick's throat had not weakened although the lie-detector had nodded._

_"Then who took it?"_

_"My mom." He had given her the key once. She'd given it back, sure, but that had not been the question the Prince had asked. For a moment, Nick wondered whether his actions would put his mother in jeopardy, before he remembered that they would not be able to find her and that she was a force to be reckoned with. When the old man nodded reluctantly, Nick had to hide his smile. A second later, his cheerful mood vanished as the Wesen added: "He's hiding something, this is not the whole truth." Okay, maybe it had been too easy._

_"Where is the key right now?" Obviously, the Prince was learning from his mistakes. Nick had to think to evade that inquiry in an elegant way._

_"It's both in my trailer and with friends."_

_"You mean you cut it in pieces?" Consternation was written clearly across the Prince's face, allowing Nick to smile, which was promptly rewarded with another punch in the face._

_"Answer me!" Wow, somebody was getting impatient. Nick complied quickly, although probably not as eloquently as his captor had wished._

_"No, I didn't."_

_"Then. What. Did. You. Do. With. The. Key." He hurt all over, but for all it was worth, it was kind of fun to provoke the man. Enjoying what little power he had, Nick grinned lazily._

_"Like I said, I gave it away." Nick had braced himself for another beating, but was surprised to be abruptly released. His legs buckled under the sudden weight and he slid down along the wall. From his sitting position, he watched the Royal step outside the cell and order something in rapid German. Not good._


	4. Strategy

**Chapter four: Strategy**

When they got off the plane, a young woman was waiting for them. Renard nodded in her direction while getting his suitcase and motioning for the others to follow. There were just six of them: Monroe, Hank, Juliette, Trubel, Adalind and himself. Not much to take on an army, he thought, then again we might not have to. Who knows what tempted Alistair to poach in my canton? He's always had an eye on Portland, but he's not the kind of person to make rash decisions.

"Your Highness." The woman made half a bow in his direction, then blushed fiercely and busied herself greeting the others. Renard watched her quick, awkward movements and was again reminded of the girl he'd saved years ago when he'd visited Scotland the last time.

"Elle", he said with a hint of warmth in his voice. At once she returned her attention to him, the red color shining on her otherwise pale cheeks. Her fingers stopped fidgeting with the car keys and for a moment she managed to return his stare with remarkable force. Then she dropped the keys and the moment was over.

"Take us to the hotel, please." The complete opposite of an army, not what he needed at all. Still, she was the only trustworthy connection he had in this country and he wasn't exactly operating on steady ground, which made her the only option. Renard wasn't surprised that the car ride was spent mostly in silence, because everyone was lost in their own thoughts. The gloomy mood continued as they rented rooms in a little town in the North. While the others unpacked and a low conversation started, Renard marched down a the streets to the middle of the town and got out his phone.

"Good morning, cousin", he said tonelessly and the Price answered likewise. Icy politeness like nothing had happened during the last few years.

"I came to collect what's mine. A dark-haired human, police Detective, not very tall... he often gets himself into trouble, so I wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally got onto one of your planes."

"No accident involved, dear cousin." Okay, so Alistair didn't want to take the last route out. That was something Renard could handle. Pride and being overly confident had always been problems of the Iceman, something he planned to exploit ruthlessly, so he added a tiny pinch of desperation to his voice. And anger. Barely controlled anger always sounded nice on a telephone.

"What do you want? You can't possibly try to invade my canton and hope to get away with it."

"What do I want? I want your head on a spike, preferably after I beat the shit out of you. I want the Laufer destroyed. And I want Portland, but this time I'll settle for the key. I know you have it, so don't try to play me, Sean. At the end of the day I'm either going to be in possession of the artifact or your precious friend is going to be dead. Eight ó clock, Willow's field."

"That's not a good place, is it?", Renard asked the person behind him. He hung up and turned around to face the stammering Elle. She was partially hiding behind her long, brown hair and seemed very young.

"It's no problem. I knew you were listening in from the moment I dialed his number."

"Oh. I, um, it's not like I wanted to spy, I just..."

"Like I said, no problem. Now tell me about Willow's field."

"Yes, your Highness." Elle stopped studying her feet and set down on a nearby bench, shaking her head. "It's not a good place. Very out-of-the-way and a valley. There is only one road strait through it. Sometimes people go there on horseback, I mean they ride there, but not often. Oh, and there are a lot of willows, but you already knew that because of the name and now I'm rambling. Sorry." Renard ignored her apology and paced, hands behind his back. He'd known that Eisschatten were timid, just not how much. It was hard to have a normal conversation with her. Thinking hard, he stopped and sat down next to her. Different ideas ran through his head, always three steps ahead of the situation. They stayed silent for a few minutes until the Captain rose again.

"I've got a plan."

"You're going to go to Willow's field, aren't you?" At least she didn't look scared at the thought. Only nervous.

"Yes, and I'm going to take Monroe, Hank and Adalind with me, just in case."

"I think I should come, too", Elle stated and stepped in his way. Renard raised an eyebrow, surprised by her change in attitude. The girl's shoulders had squared and she looked older somehow. That didn't make her any more useful, though, as she was an Eisschatten – and a weak one at that, judging from her Woge. Plus, her kind were no good in a fight. They usually ran or cowered. When he voiced his concerns, she cocked her head and smiled in a way that could only be described as wicked.

"There is something I need to tell you, Prince Sean Renard of Portland."

_"Yes?" The voice on the phone was impatient as usual. The owner was a Royal after all, and currently head of the family._

_"I need advice on family business", Prince Alistair confessed through gritted teeth. "May I speak?"_

_"Yes."_

_"What if I was to get my hands on the Grimm, hypothetically speaking?"_

_"The Grimm-turned-human, you mean?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Hypothetically speaking?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You should take the key from him. And make sure to acquire all information about Prince Eric's death."_

_"Yes. And what if I was to get my hands on the Royal bastard as well, just by accident?" On the other end of the line, somebody inhaled sharply._

_"Hypothetically speaking?"_

_"Absolutely, yes."_

_"The Prince of Portland, hm?"_

_"Yes."_

_"A delicate situation."_

_"Yes."_

_"Then you should question him about Prince Eric's death as well."_

_"Yes. So, hypothetically speaking, how far could I go without loosing my head afterward?"_

_"That would depend on the results you could present."_

_"Yes. Yes, I suppose that's true. Hypothetically speaking, of course."_

_"Of course", the other voice agreed. Prince Viktor disconnected._


	5. Desperado

**Chapter five: Desperado**

Wind whipped around through the valley, over the long grass and around the two enemy parties. Sean Renard buried his hands in the pockets of his coat, mirroring the other Royal, who was watching them superciliously. Oh, I'm going to make sure to wipe that smile off your face before we leave, Renard promised silently while he took inventory of his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of a dirt road next to Monroe, Adalind, Trubel and Elle. The girl was partially hiding behind the young Grimm, whose brave posture was contrasting Elle's. Adalind seemed a little uncomfortable at most, whereas Monroe's fists were balled in anger. Renard couldn't blame him when he followed the Blutbad's eyes to the bound and gagged Nick. His Detective had been badly beaten, his face was bloody and bruised. They hadn't even tried to clean him up, which meant the sight ought to destabilize them emotionally. Cute.

"Good evening, cousin!", Renard greeted in a friendly tone. He didn't take his eyes off the real threat for longer than a moment, long enough to notice the dozen guards his Royal relative had brought, but short enough not to display any interest.

"Oh yes, this is indeed going to be a good evening. Especially after you hand over the key, Sean." At that the Captain raised an eyebrow. How very direct and impolite. Well, it definitely matched his own mood, so he wasn't bothered too much.

"Untie Detective Burkhardt and send him over and I'm going to throw it to you", he stated, pulling the small object out. Behind him, Monroe gasped for air, shocked by the equability with which he discarded the priceless artifact. Up until now, they hadn't known that he really was going to fulfill the exchange.

"I don't think so. We're not in Portland anymore, Sean." The irony was not lost on him - we're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Well, at least he wasn't the green witch that died at the end, Renard reasoned.

"True. Yet you want the key a lot more than I want my human returned, thus it's your turn." He'd like Nick to be safely out of the way before things got complicated. And they would, no doubt. Already the guards were closing in on his little group, armed and menacing. Elle seemed to get smaller by the second.

"Whatever gave you that idea? We're in my territory and you're heavily undermanned. What resistance could you offer with a Hexenbiest, an untrained Grimm" - Alistair's eyes widened a little at that - "a Blutbad wieder and an Eisschatten? There simply is no way you can apply any sort of pressure" Contempt was written plainly across his face, although the Scotsman clearly liked the sound of his own voice. Renard, on the other hand, had gotten terribly bored.

"Oh, enough of that. I'm a busy man!", he said and charged his cousin. From the beginning, this part had been unavoidable. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Monroe cleanly breaking one of the guard's necks before Woging and engaging three more of them in a fight. Trubel was exchanging blows with two Schakals and more than holding her own. Honestly, her opponents looked scared. A gunshot sounded and another guard fell, clutching his shoulder. Good shot, Hank, Renard thought, or had it been Juliette? He couldn't say from the distance which sharpshooter had pulled the trigger.

"Congratulations, cousin, not as bad as I had anticipated", Alistair grunted, parrying a blow from Renard's long, curved dagger. They were circling each other, none of them Woged. In fact, nobody had ever seen the Scottish Prince in his Wesen form, that's why he was called the Iceman. Elegantly, Renard ducked beneath Alistair's sword and kicked at the guard that had been approaching from behind. The man fell with a satisfying scream. The wounds in his chest protested and Renard backed off a few steps. He felt blood trickle into the fresh bandages and frowned. They had to end this, quickly, but in the few seconds is maneuver had gained, he could see that things weren't going well. Adalind had not managed to kill anybody yet and Elle had problems fighting off the single guard that had advanced on her. She was Woged, although that was only visible by the sheen of frost in her hair and the deathly white color of her skin. Monroe had not been able to get through to Nick, who was wisely holding back and retreating through the grass, Renard noticed morosely.

"Already getting tired?", Alistair teased, but Renard didn't waste time to reply and charged again. His dagger was so fast it was barely visible and came down at the Prince in a vicious arc. Only long training and a step to the side saved his relative from being cut in half.

"Good footwork", the Captain commented sarcastically and lunged. Their blades met, then Alistair jumped back.

"Better than yours." In the same moment, Renard felt something cold being shoved into his back, right beneath his the bones of this shoulder. He spun around to see Adalind, whose knife was covered in blood. His blood.

"Bitch!" Before he could react, something black and fast barreled into the Hexenbiest. Trubel, saving his life again. Wordlessly, Renard turned his attention back to the smirking Prince and nicked his opponent's arm. The little red on his own dagger made the Captain happier, as was the numbness covering the pain from the stab wound. Numbness? Renard paled, cursing himself for being a softhearted idiot when it came to this Hexenbiest. Trusting her proved to be fatal over and over. Of course her weapons would be poisoned.

"Trubel", he warned loudly without looking away from his enemy. The paralyzing sensation in his torso was already spreading. "Remember what we talked about in the car? Now would be a good time!"

"Really?" Only she would ask that.

"Yes!" There was a sound of metal hitting flesh, then multiple running footsteps. Monroe shouted something nasty, knocked two of his enemies to the ground with one hit and took off after the fleeing Grimm. Good, they had gotten the message. And from the sudden silence of gunshots, Juliette and Hank had noticed the change in strategy as well. Time to go. Renard made a few tentative steps, then a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't, or I'm going to kill the Grimm." Free to move and think, one of the guards had finally noticed the weak spot in his plan and caught hold of Nick. The man was struggling against the Hundjäger but went still when a dagger was raised to his throat. Renard held up his hands, dropping his own weapon. He shared a long look with Nick, then saw another figure being pulled up by Alistair's lackeys. Elle, nursing a deep gash in her thigh. So much for plan B.

"No need to do anything drastic", Renard said easily. He let his hands fall to his sides as he had no sensation left in them anyway. Interesting situation for Alistair, he thought while the world gradually got fuzzier, how would he choose to play his advantage?


	6. Touch-move-rule

**Chapter six: Touch-move-rule**

_Elle shivered in the cold. She was wearing nothing but her ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt. Everything else had been taken by the Wesen that had taken her to the castle. Her mouse brown hair tumbled loosely to her shoulders after her hair band had been confiscated as if she'd hidden wire in it or something. The fact that she had actually done so didn't please her one bit as she hobbled closer to the thick iron bars of her cell. She didn't touch the metal, but leaned forward as much as she could to see the man in the other cell. He looked even worse in the dim light, bruised and broken. For the millionth time she prayed that things would work out, that he would be like Renard had predicted._

_"Hey, Nick." Okay, maybe it was boring to start a conversation that way, but the guard was sitting only a few meters away, reading some old western novel. Apparently neither of his master's hostages warranted his attention at the moment._

_"Yeah?" There was curiosity shining in the Grimm's eyes, which Elle judged a good beginning. She even managed to reply without her usual stammering._

_"You're the guy they turned human, right?", she asked, closing her eyes and leaning against the stone behind her. The blood-loss from the cut in her left leg might have been more severe than she'd thought. Her supernatural senses were all muddled and only came into focus when Nick spoke. Then she smiled, licking her lips in anticipation. The Detective's words flew by without meaning, but Elle concentrated on something else entirely. A tiny spark she felt in him when his voice was laced with anger as it was now. Would it be enough?_

_"Excuse me, human, what?", she said meanly and stretched out her legs. "I didn't hear you, weak boy."_

_"What the hell? You're an Eisschatten, a shadow in the ice, and you're calling me weak? Have you looked into a mirror lately?" Nick had risen from his position and gripped the bars on his side of the corridor, his patience worn thin by the abuse he'd had to endure. There was less a meter of thin air between them and his rage was surrounding him like a thick, warm cloak, fueling the flame within him. Elle could taste it, feel it in her heart and in her hand, where a little golden coin had formed. Yes! Immediately her behavior changed and she mouthed the word sorry. Then she glanced at the guard and pressed a finger to her lips. Out loud she said:_

_"At least I'm not a puny human. You're the reason His Highness is in trouble."_

_"Yeah, right. The whole plan was bullshit from the beginning, what were you thinking?", Nick shouted, making a sign that he was confused. Hopefully he would understand the rest of her actions. It all depended on how quick he would adapt. Carefully, she mimicked throwing something, then catching it, looking at it, kissing it and then holding it between her flat hands and saying something. By then Nick's only response was bewilderment. Oh God, this would all go wrong._

_"We were thinking about rescuing your lazy ass after you got captured, Detective." Her words were making fun of him, her eyes pleading with his. With one last look at the still reading guard, she showed him the coin and prayed for his good reflexes. Please, please catch and do as you're told. Elle took a deep breath and held the coin above her head. Letting go of it felt like ripping out her own heart. Can't turn back now, gotta end what I began._

_"What are you trying to say, idiot?" It was an honest question, he didn't know what to do with the gift he'd received. Nevertheless, he seemed to recognize something about the coin, as his eyes went wide. Then why didn't he use it already?_

_"Shut up, both of you!", the guard said, annoyed. He flipped a page and then returned to the story. Jägerbars had never been known to be very smart._

_"I do have a name, you should use it", Elle said sourly and tried to convey the message. Nick was nervously playing with the coin, examining it. Curse it, how long would it take him to make the connection?_

_"Enough!" Now the Wesen got up and placed the book aside._

_"Aren't we allowed to talk?", Elle wanted to know, trying unsuccessfully to draw the huge man to her. Unfortunately, Nick hadn't been able to hide the artifact in time and now the guard was unlocking his cell. Terror bubbled in Elle's throat. Please, please don't let him get it. The consequences would be disastrous._

_"What have you got there? Give me that!" Nick had backed to the wall, staring at the guard and the coin. Finally he raised the thing to his lips and when the metal touched his skin, understanding flashed in his eyes. Oh, hurry, sweet Grimm! As if he'd heard her plea, Nick pressed the coin between his hands and opened his mouth. Elle felt a tugging sensation in her stomach, a pleasant pull towards power. Do it!_

_"Stop!" The guard violently pulled Nick close, the same instant the human murmured a single word. When he ripped open the Detective's hands, they were empty. Elle cocked her head sideways, suppressing her Woge, instead showing a truly predatory smile. Let the fun begin, Master._

"Now what do we do?", Monroe asked, sitting down at the small table in the cheap chamber they'd rented. Part of him wanted to smash everything in reach, but he restrained himself by thinking about his wife and not about the gigantic mess they'd made of things.

"Nothing", Juliette answered to everyone's surprise. She was more or less calm, massaging her temples. Oddly enough, she was the most composed person in the room.

"We can't do nothing", Trubel shouted. Monroe refrained from correcting her grammar, not explaining why a double negative could be interpreted as a positive. Instead, he fixed his eyes on Nick's girlfriend, who definitely knew more than she let on.

"Sean gave me instructions in case he was... um, shot or something. We're supposed to wait a few days and then raise a little hell as a diversion. Apparently there was a back-up plan all along."

"Diversion for what?", Hank asked dubiously. If the first plan had been risky, then how would the alternative be any better? Juliette seemed to prove him right when she shrugged in apology.

"I don't know. He never told me."

"That's it! We need to do something! Anything!" Trubel was right. Nick and Renard were in over their heads. But what – or who – would be able to help?

"I need to make a phone call", Monroe said cryptically. Several phone calls actually, and he didn't know whether he would reach the person he needed. Therefore he went outside, not explaining his idea any further before he had confirmation that his message could be delayed. When he came back inside, Juliette inquired as to whom he had called.

"The most dangerous person we know", the Blutbad commented darkly and sat back down, waiting. Juliette understood, but her creased brow showed her worries, which she voiced a moment later.

"Are you sure that was wise?"

"There is no way to stop it now."


	7. Absolute pin

**Chapter seven: Absolute pin**

**"_Bishop to D6. Check!", the young boy with the short brown hair said. His tiny face was set in concentration, his back to the wooden chessboard between him and his contestant, a slightly older boy. Both of them could not have been more than twelve years old. The ancient nanny moved the piece to the place the little Prince had ordered. Her voice creaked like the wooden roof beams in the antique part of the building._**

**"_Correct. Your turn, Prince Alistair." The older boy tapped his foot, unsure what to do. His parents were watching the game, which meant that he could not afford to lose to the bastard cousin._**

**"_Queen to C5." Defense. _**

**"_Incorrect. The black Queen can not reach C5 from her current position." Alistair mumbled something unkind as some of the parent's shook their head. _**

**"_Tower to B4!"_**

**"_Are you sure?", the younger boy asked mildly. His hands were crossed in his lap, his eyes closed to envision the game._**

**"_Of course I'm sure, you little punk!"_**

**"_Okay. Queen to B4. Checkmate."_**

**"_Correct. Prince Sean has won the game." _**

**"_No?!" In a fit of rage, Alistair turned around, grabbed a handful of black pawns and threw them at his opponent, who was calmly getting up without turning around. When that didn't achieve anything but a disapproving glance from the old hag, he picked up the whole board and swung it against Sean. The kid ducked just in time to avoid the blow and in turn swooped out Alistair's legs from under him._**

**"_Stop it", Renard said and walked away. The parent's laughed._**

_Why did he remember that so clearly? Why now? Groggily, Renard turned around in his bed. It was still morning, he guessed from the low position of the sun through the heavily decorated windows. Decorated windows? High ceilings? Scotland!_

_Abruptly, Sean's mind started spinning. He was in Scotland, in Alistair's mansion. He'd been trying to rescue Nick, but things had gone downhill rather fast. When he tried to get up, his movements were sluggish and totally uncoordinated. Renard gritted his teeth against the intense pain radiating from his back and chest and got up to his elbows before gentle hands pressed his weak body back onto the covers._

_"Don't try to get up, dear cousin. You were hurt quite badly, you should get some more rest", Alistair gloated. Renard blinked. Once, twice, three times, but the soft edges in his vision didn't diminish. If anything, the dizziness got worse._

_"What I need is to get back to Portland. And Nick, I need to get my Detective." How pathetic did that sound? Renard tried to focus, but failed miserably. What was wrong with him? Aftereffects of Adalind's poison?_

_"You may leave my canton as soon as I get the key. The real one this time." Oh, so the disagreeable Scotsman had figured out that's he'd been given a replica. Shame, it had taken a month to create the fake key. Maybe, Renard thought sleepily, I can actually glean something from my condition._

_"Wait, that wasn't the real one?" He tried to sound dazed, which was no problem at all. His eyes were glassy and unfocused without needing a boost. Satisfied, he noticed the suppressed anger his cousin was experiencing. Oh, how much you must wish to kill me right now. But you can't, you're already playing a dangerous game here._

_"You're frustrating, Sean."_

_"You too, Alistair", he said, unable to resist the urge to tease, "You always have been an irritable little child. That's why I got Portland and you were send to rule a rocky island." Suddenly, Alistair loomed above him. His hands deliberately lingered on Renard's wounds while he determinedly pushed his cousin onto the bed._

_"Oh, you weren't send to Portland as some kind of reward. They just wanted the bastard out of sight."_

_"Being a bastard always bothered you more than me." Renard fought to keep his face a mask of calm indifference, pain and confusion swirling through his head. He knew it would've been wiser to keep silent, yet he couldn't. What had Adalind done to his self-control?_

_"As much as it bothered Prince Eric?", Alistair asked innocently. Sean was puzzled. What did Eric have to do with anything? Wasn't he dead?_

_"Well, no. Eric didn't resort to taunting me about my family backgrounds, we had more than enough other differences."_

_"Like the fact that you killed him because he wanted to get rid of the Grimm?"_

_"Nick's not a Grimm anymore", Sean replied thoughtlessly. His harmless comment saved his life, because while Alistair huffed in exasperation, Renard's brain finally caught up with the conversation. That's what it had all been about! His dear cousin wanted to prove him guilty of murder. Not a chance, Renard thought and adjusted his pillows._

"This medieval ambiance isn't very comfortable, huh?", Nick said, resting his pounding head against the bars. They were alone at last after the guard had left to report back to the Prince. Somehow Nick doubted the critical episode would be mentioned.

"No. Not really, Master", the girl answered. If he wasn't mistaken, her appearance had changed after she'd thrown him the artifact, which added to his curiosity. Was there a reason that her hair had a reddish tint now and that her body seemed less angular? What had he done by accepting that coin?

"Why are you calling me Master?", he inquired, addressing the easiest of his questions. Or maybe not, as the girl seemed to consider for some time.

"Because you're my new Master... what you did with the, um... coin..." A deep blush covered her cheeks and Nick sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy, yet he somehow felt as if she were right. He was her master. Which of course was ridiculous.

"How did I know what you were called?" When Nick wanted to say her name out loud, he couldn't. Ciel. Sensing his discomfort, she presented a solution, saying that people usually called her Elle.

"Because, when I gave you the, um... coin, we..."

"Okay, you know what? Start at the beginning and tell me everything I need to know about you and that coin of yours." That got her attention. At his request, she sat up straight and answered at once.

"Yes, Master." Was she even thinking about it? Obeying seemed more like a reflex, Nick noticed. Strange.

"I'm not an Eisschatten. Well, not fully. I'm a bastard, I guess. Partly Eisschatten, but mostly one of the Feenvolk. Or Fair folk. Or fairy or whatever they call us these days. Feenvolk are divided into four courts, like kingdoms, but without territory. There are Summer, Winter, Dark and Wise Fey. I'm Winter."

"Okay..." Nick wasn't sure he understood. Feenvolk? He'd heard that name somewhere, but couldn't remember exactly. And as time might be running out, he asked her to skip to the part that was directly connected to him. Again the answer was immediate.

"Yes, Master. Um, we Winter Fey have these tokens, which we give away to other Wesen. That's the way we live, by binding ourselves to a specific Master. And for a time we fulfill their wishes while they in return grant us great power." A bit like a genie in a bottle, Nick deemed.

"So I lose this 'power' by giving it to you?"

"No, Master, of course not!" She seemed put out by the idea. "It's more like we – I – receive power from the fact that I'm bound. The stronger your wishes, the stronger I will be. Lots of rules with that one, but the bottom line is: as long as you believe and want it enough, much will be possible, Master."

"Stop calling me Master, please. Nick is fine", the Detective said, deep in thought. He was sure that his meeting with Ciel had not been an accident. Renard, cunning as ever. Maybe he should reconsider pledging himself to the Prince, he thought with a smile. Thinking of Renard also reminded him of the time Wesley Colt had been in town, manipulating and threatening them to find out about different coins.

"This token, it wouldn't have anything to do with the coins of Zakynthos, would it?"

"It does, actually." Why was he not surprised? Things always got weird when those bloody objects were involved. Good thing his mother had destroyed them.

"Same concept, only that the Fey who used the Zankynthos coins as tokens are long dead. It's rumored that they were the first of the Feenvolk, the Kings of Winter, Summer and Dark." Nick nodded, his quick mind making the connections. Yet there was something else that bothered him.

"You said that Feenvolk gave those tokens to Wesen. I'm human."

"No, Mas... er, Nick, you're not. Deep down where it matters, you're still a Grimm. It's just being suppressed, that's all." Interesting, but not true. It couldn't be, everyone knew that Adalind's Zaubertrank had erased what made him more than human.

"You must be lying."

"Feenvolk don't lie. We're unable to." So... what did that mean for him? For Juliette? Did he want to be a Grimm? With a start, Nick realized how much it mattered, how much needed to be somebody. He couldn't rely on others for the rest of his life. But for now, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like getting out of this dungeon.

"Okay." Steps approached and Nick deduced that this undisturbed interview was rapidly coming to an end.

"Could we escape using your powers? And take Renard with us?" Damn, the guard was nearly there. He could see that Elle was seriously considering the answer, then she shrugged.

"Out of the cells, no problem. The rest of the castle is going to be tricky. We could risk it." She clearly didn't want to say no. From what he had heard, disappointing her master was a tragedy for her, so he smiled encouragingly.

"Later, then. Let's wait and see how things proceed."

"Yes, Master. Er, Nick." He shot her an annoyed glance, which resulted in a deep blush on her side. The steps rounded the last corner and Nick paled when a half-dozen armed guards came towards them. Maybe his choice had been the wrong one.


	8. Castling

**Chapter eight: Castling**

Renard was shaken awake by multiple rough hands. At the movement his wounds throbbed, which he interpreted as a good sign. Feeling them meant that he wasn't as disoriented as he had been before, right? Getting up still proved to be impossible without help, though, and the fog in his vision had not cleared. He felt like a helpless kid, tapping around barefoot, needing other arms to hold him up. Yet he didn't complain when they practically carried him through an endless maze of corridors. It was a classic scare tactic, meant to confuse him. Instead, Renard mapped out about a third of the castle in his head. I still have my mind. Having his thoughts back reassured him beyond measure.

"Cousin", Renard greeted majestically and allowed himself to be lowered onto a hard, wooden chair. He was not restrained by anything, only his own weakness prevented escape. Crafty, he thought, keeping me here against my will while not harming me directly. This way you can always claim you were just trying to help.

"Sean." Why did Alistair look as if he'd just received Christmas presents? His eyes darted to the far end of the room and reflexively, Renard let out an angered breath. Nick was there, suspended between two marble columns by thick chains around his wrists. Through the sad remains of his shirt, dark violet bruises were visible. In some places, blood had soaked the cloth and Renard had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

"I thought you might want to talk to your Detective."

"How very courteous of you", Renard hissed, barely keeping his human form. Goddammit, it was hard to stay in control. He would have to be careful not to be provoked. Cautiously, he turned his attention to Nick.

"Are you alright?"

"Bah, he's fine. He won't be in a few minutes.", Alistair said gleefully, showing emotion for the first time. Sadistic. Renard raised an eyebrow. Who was the sick bastard now?

_Nick followed the conversation with extreme interest, trying to figure out the relationship between the Captain and the Prince of Scotland. They had to have been more than rivals, the whole stay-and-watch-while-we-torture-your-friend-setting was too personal for that. And the way the Prince circled him like a shark looking for prey was pure drama meant for Renard. I'm only means to an end, Nick realized. But to what end?_

_"Tell me where the key is. Or why you killed your brother. It's your choice, really."_

_"Eric was my half-brother", the Captain corrected automatically. Nick wondered why he insisted on details in a situation like this, then he noticed the thin layer of sweat on his boss's skin and the unnatural red in his cheeks. Something was wrong with Renard._

_"What if I don't?" Oh shit. Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Not when there was a sword leaning against the pillar and a psychopath right next to it._

_"Then I start cutting off pieces of your Detective. I'm sure he doesn't mind, so take your time deciding, Sean." The sword made a high-pitched sound as it was raised from the ground. Light reflected off its blade. When the silence stretched out and became unbearable, Nick accepted the inevitable. Rationally, he knew that the key was more important, like, say, his toes. But right now he could definitely use some help from the Prince of Portland._

_"Where do I cut, what do I do? Humans break so easily, so many choices", the Prince muttered happily. Cold steel traced along Nick's muscles._

_"I'm deeply sorry, Nick." Renard looked him straight in the eye and for a moment Nick reciprocated in kind. Then his lids closed as the sword found a place to cut first. His right wrist. Nick felt Alistair positioning the blade and then the weight was gone. The Prince was aiming, gathering momentum. In just a second, he was going to lose his right hand. Panic welled up inside him, his insides were screaming. Stopstopstopstop. Stop it!_

_There was a loud crack and something warm dripped down onto his arm. Blood. But not his blood. Shaking violently, Nick opened his eyes. The sword hung in midair, only millimeters from his unprotected skin. Two bare hands had caught it in the last possible moment._

_"Elle!", Nick shouted, completely speechless otherwise. For the first time she wasn't hiding her full Woge and it was a sight to behold. Snow-white skin, frozen hair and long, thin claws. Her face was frightening and beautiful with its slightly pointed ears and the pupil-less azure eyes. She didn't look human at all, but what captured all the attention in the room were the four translucent, silvery wings sprouting out of her back._

_"They call you the Iceman. I can't imagine why", she said and Nick could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees. Involuntarily, he shuddered. The Prince seemed to recover faster, whipped back the blade and attacked the Fey. She responded by hacking at him with her talons, ripping his suit to pieces in one lunge. When she opened her mouth to snarl at him, Nick noticed her razor-sharp, triangular teeth. Plain scary. Alistair backed away, sword pointed in her direction. Elle followed, then stopped and cocked her head in a decidedly non-human fashion._

_"What should I do, Nick?" Same voice, different girl. He had a hard time combining the two in his mind. He couldn't think straight._

_"Get me out of here."_

_"As you wish." Swiftly, she returned to his side and broke open the chains, not bothering to use any tools. He leaned onto her shoulders, adrenaline pumping through his veins. They could really do it. Escape, beat the Prince, rule the world. Too late he realized his mistake._

_"Don't move or I'll slit his throat!" While they had been busy with the manacles, the Prince of Scotland had grabbed his cousin and pulled him into a choke-hold. Renard grimaced, his scowl matching the one on Nick's face. I should have told her to kill the Scotsman. Or rescue us both._

_"What should I do, Nick?" He didn't know. The sword was only inches away from the Captain's neck. He couldn't risk losing him._

_"Nothing right now. Stand down." And like that, it was lost. Within a minute, guards stormed the room – an easy feet, considering that the thick door was completely wrecked from the Fey's entrance. They reasserted control and put him in chains again, keeping their distance from Elle, who had changed back into the inconspicuous girl._

_"Not an Eisschatten after all, are we?" The Royal seemed to be feeling safe with his man swarming the room. An evil smile played around his lips._

_"Separate them right now. He will not have the chance to say another word to her. And bring me the Muse." Oh no! Suddenly, Nick remembered. He'd met the Wesen the Prince was talking about once before: a stunning dark-skinned woman. She had turned him into her puppet in no time, made him tell her about the key he'd given to Renard. That's why the Prince had known who possessed it in the first place! Black self-hatred overtook him. What use was a Feenvolk when her master wasn't his own master? They were doomed. Unless..._


	9. Flipping the board

**Chapter nine: Flipping the board**

_Elle hadn't resisted when the bad men took her away. Even without her Master's orders she wouldn't have liked to risk His Highness's life. Although she could have taken out the evil Prince before he'd have time to register what happened. But Nick had not believed it was possible and as so often, the Master's mind limited her own abilities._

_"That's the order of things", she whispered into the dark, repeating the words her Mama had told her years ago. It was just not fair. So much power, so little control. At least she wasn't a full Feenvolk or else she would become more or less mindless when entering a binding, with no will of her own. Elle couldn't imagine living like that, like her mother had been. The lady had never even considered not giving away her token, refusing to hear her daughter's argument that no Master was better than an abusive Master. That's why most of us die young._

_"And now? What have I done?" Sold herself to the Royal families. Nick wouldn't be able to resist the Muse's compulsion, eventually his body would turn on himself. And on her in the process. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes, freezing on her lashes. She wiped them away in a harsh gesture. I will not cry. Not because of my fate._

_"What is that?" A peculiar feeling overcame her. All hairs tingled, goosebumps covered her body. Elle rose and stood at the tiny window, watching the autumn winds outside. Maybe her fate wasn't written in stone after all._

_"Go on. Come on, Nick, go on." How clever her Master was! What a genius, she honestly admired his resourcefulness. Outstanding! The feeling spread from her skin, melting into her muscles, her body, the bane of her bones. She felt her most basic core shift and with that, she was not entirely Nick's creature anymore._

_"What should I do, Masters?", Elle asked into the dark._

His mouth gaped open at the pure absurdity of Trubel's shout. Who would ever go into battle, screaming All honor to the peanuts!? Then again, the young Grimm had been the manifestation of weird. The good kind, naturally. Hank couldn't take his eyes off her slim athletic body.

"Oh, get a grip. She could be your daughter!" Routinely, he repositioned his military issue rifle to get a better aim. Next to him, Juliette did the same. "Up on the tower. Four ó clock", he said, already searching for the next target.

"Got it", Nick's girlfriend said and three shots echoed across the plane. They were cowering in a small hedge bank, being backup for the full dozen madmen that were charging the castle. There! The first enemy was exiting the antique gate. Hank aimed, let all air leave his body, held his breath and pulled the trigger. Hundreds of meters away, a Jägerbar fell. He didn't get up again.

"Good shot." Oh, he loved his redheaded apprentice when she was acting all bloodthirsty. Nick had chosen incredibly well.

"Well, thank you, love", Hank answered and allowed himself to grin.

"Two ó clock. One is leaving through the side-door."

"Got it!" Juliette's hand didn't waver and the shot found its target. So far, it was going perfectly well. Then the gates fully opened and a horde of monsters exited in full run.

"Shoot at will", Hank ordered, taking aim and pulling the trigger. Again. Again. And again. Still it wasn't enough. There were too many enemies to have any hope of winning. But they didn't have to win. In fact, they would flee at a certain signal. We're stalling.

"I think they noticed us", Juliette informed him. And she was right, two of the Wesen were breaking away from the main crowd, coming in their direction. They were smart enough to take cover, making a hit somewhat harder. Not easy, but not impossible either, Hank decided and told the redhead to leave the men to him. They were running now, covering the distance with alarming speed.

"This is war", he whispered, making sure his hands were firm and where they were supposed to be. One shot each, there was no time left for mistakes. Taking a deep breath, Hank positioned the rifle.

"Hold on... there you go!" One down, one to go. Hank's eyes narrowed in concentration while Juliette breath next to his ear quickened.

"He's close, Hank. Hank! I think we should fall back right now!" Panic tinged her voice, but he didn't let her break his concentration. He had this, Nick was counting on him.

"Not gonna let him down this time."

"What are you talking about?" The target cross danced on the fast-moving body. Chest, head, shoulder, miss, shoulder, head, shoulder, miss, head, chest – Shot. Blood sprayed and the attacker went down.

"You did it! Hank, you did it!" Juliette screamed and hugged him. Hand smiled brightly, but didn't take his eye away from the telescope. Only when he was certain the body wasn't moving anymore, he returned the exhilarated grin.

"Two more down, a hundred or so to go." That sobered her up some. Together they lay back down in the grass and took aim again.

"One ó clock."

"Got it!"


	10. Counter-attack

**Chapter ten: Counter-attack**

_The artful painting on the ceiling had come alive. Renard didn't know when it had happened, only that the angel in the sky was winking and making rude gestures at him. If he'd had the strength, he would have gotten up and destroyed the impertinent gnome. Maybe later, right now he was too busy being sick. Nausea gripped his stomach tightly and he was happy he hadn't eaten anything, therefore only having cramps accompanied by dry heaving every few minutes or so. Renard wasn't keeping track of time._

_"What's happening?", he asked the impolite angel when his tummy became all cold. As close as he pulled his covers, Renard couldn't escape the freezing temperatures. God, he wanted to die. For minutes, he didn't move a muscle, reminded of the purification potion Catherine had made him drink. Awful, disgusting, horrifying, terrible, horrendous, ghastly... Renard blinked. He was numb. Peacefully, comfortingly numb._

_"Thanks", he told the gnome, forgiving any insults the little guy had muttered. But there was only a painting staring down at him. Renard closed his eyes, searching for the reason of his sudden change of condition. What he found didn't make any sense. He felt a sensation as if being in a contract with another being, but the only Feenvolk in this country – probably on this continent – was Elle and she was already bound to..._

_"Nick!" Nicholas Burkhardt, who must have taken his chance and pledged himself to him, the Prince of Portland. Renard chuckled appreciatively. Clever, he thought. Depending on the exact words Nick had chosen to complete the offered bargain, Elle would be bound to both of them. Meaning combined strength._

_"Help me out of bed", he said experimentally. And sure enough, a small figure appeared next to him, holding out a white hand. Her hair was longer and lighter now, shining strawberry-blonde. She'd also grown a few centimeters, but her predatory behavior was still the same._

_"Yes, Master." She smiled, showing her wicked teeth. Renard laughed quietly and took the hand._

_"Like I said. Win-win." He could not help but feel proud at his achievement. They were all still alive, Elle more powerful than ever and Nick was finally pledged to him. Now they only had to settle their differences with Alistair._

_"Yes, Master." Contrary to Nick, he liked the sound of that. He was a Prince, why not be Master for a while? Sadly, said Master couldn't stand on his own. Renard grumbled, sat back down and eyed up the girl._

_"Can't you do something about that?", he asked grumpily, gesturing around himself. His sickness was getting the better of him, a fact Renard had to admit without shame. He would have to be realistic and the chances for a successful retreat were dwindling. At least he knew he had timed the plan rightly, as he could hear sounds of battle through the window. Things would be a lot less crowded in here for a while._

_"No, Master. I'm afraid I already did what I could. His Highness will need medicine to cancel out the poison, I can only send ice to cool things down a little. I'm sorry I failed you, Master." The curious thing was that Renard could see she actually meant that. Poor thing, so very dependent on the happiness of her binding partner._

_"Fine. Where... where is Nick?" Sweat cascaded down his body, shivering fighting against the urge to take off all clothing in an attempt to escape the fire burning through his veins. He had to focus, just for a few minutes._

_"I believe the other Master is being confined on a lower level, east wing, second floor, fifth door on the right."_

_"Are you keeping tabs on him?" Amusement crept through the agony when he saw the bafflement on her face._

_"Well, yes, of course. On both of you." Now that was a useful talent. But he wasn't sure whether he liked the part where she was spying on him. Then he realized that it would be against Elle's nature to be disloyal to her Master and relaxed._

_"Let's see. If I remember correctly, direct orders amplify your powers, right?"_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"Good. Take me to Nick. Hurry, we might not have much time left. And make sure nobody sees us or survives seeing us."_

_"Yes, Master. With pleasure." She meant that as well. Only now Renard fully grasped what she had meant when she'd compared a bound court-fey to a beast on a leash. How very true and how endlessly useful. He hardly noticed her ice-cold arms on his fevered skin, doing his best to stay conscious when she supported his broad frame. Together they staggered through the corridors, Renard giving directions. Suddenly he crumpled to the floor. Elle had let go to creep up to a guard behind the next corner. It was all over before he had gotten back onto his unsteady feet._

_"Wipe away the blood on your face. No need to tip up the next one that you're not as harmless as you look", he advised after a glance at her features and got the habitual answer back._

_"Yes, Master." Soon, they were standing in front of a locked door. Inside, there was a murmur of animated conversation._

_"Has to be the unlucky Muse", Renard stated, feeling no remorse at his next order. "Kill her quickly."_

_"Yes, Master."_

"They're slaughtering us out here. We need to get away before it's too late!" Trubel knew the voice, whoever he had been, spoke the truth. She was tiring, as were the others. And the flow of new Wesen didn't seem to decrease. Soon the fight would turn very one-sided. Trubel couldn't let that happen.

"Fall back. Everyone, retreat." Run, you stupid idiots. Or, like the Germans say: Den Letzten beißen die Hunde. Last one gets bitten by the dogs. Or Hundjäger in this case. Trubel raised her machete high and parried another blow meant to decapitate her.

"Oh no. If anyone decapitates anyone, it's gonna be me decapitating you", she said and wondered whether her grammar had been right on that one. Strangely, the more action she was in, the more absent minded she became. Finally, her friends abandoned their stands and sprinted for the woods, where vehicles were parked. For a second, Trubel looked at the thick castle walls and felt a pang of guilt. Had it been enough? Shouldn't they have stayed longer? It was too late to alter her decision now. Run! Leaving Nick and Renard behind again.

"Following the Captain's orders", she corrected herself loudly and increased her pace again, reaching the treeline as one of the last survivors. Hastily she scanned her surroundings for an ambush until she noticed that the enemy wasn't following. Instead, they were returning to the castle. Oh God, hopefully they got out. Have they gotten out?


	11. Play against the clock

**Chapter eleven: Play against the clock**

Even though he didn't want to admit it, Nick was out of breath before Elle was. He didn't mind much, but the fact that the girl was light-footed even though she carried the Captian while he stumbled along was a little unsettling. They had actually gained speed when Renard had lost consciousness and Elle had picked him up like a child. Now her thin arms were cradling him in front of her slender chest. In the dim light it looked as if she was wearing a red glove on her left hand, a kind disguise provided by the shadows. He knew it was Tyra's blood, though. Elle had punched a hole right through the Muse, acting on the Prince's orders. A constant reminder of the ruthlessness of the man Nick had sworn fealty to.

"Don't you even feel that?", Nick asked when she jumped across a small stream, tripped and continued like nothing had happened. Her blonde hair shone in the dim light when she swirled around. Another curiosity, changing shape like that.

"Not really. This double-binding has lots of advantages, for example more endurance. At least that's my guess. Never been bound to two people at the same time." Bound to Renard. Was that the reason she'd adopted a few of Adalind's traits, like the hair or the more pronounced curves? To his astonishment she laughed when he voiced his suspicions.

"I do aim to please. It's not something that can be controlled", she admitted once her giggling had died down. Nick couldn't fathom what had been so funny until he noticed Elle shared some of Juliette's characteristics as well. A little uneasy, he rounded the next group of trees, searching for a more comfortable topic of conversation. Elle slowed down to let him catch up and Nick noticed the frosty air around her. The single bead of sweat on Renard's face proved that she was unsuccessful in trying to lower his temperature.

"He's burning up, isn't he?" It was a silly question as they both knew the answer. Damn Adalind, he said inwardly, wishing back his Grimm abilities simply so he could end her. Lately he found himself yearning to be a Grimm again all the time. The recent events had made him appreciate his gifts even more, so thinking he'd lost them for good was a bitter pill to swallow. However, he would not be a burden in this case.

"I'm slowing you down. Take Renard and get him to Monroe as fast as possible."

"But Master Nick...", she said, eyes wide in concern. Oh, how much he heated that look. Therefore his voice was harsh and commanding when he repeated himself.

"Take him to safety. Now!" The Yes, Master escaped her lips immediately. Then she did something unforeseen: Elle Woged, presenting her wings and then rising into the air. Her face was stricken with something he recognized as loyalty.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Master Renard told me not to leave you before he fell asleep. So grab my legs and hold on, Grimm!" He wanted to protest, say that it was impossible for her to carry another full-grown men, then paused. Firstly, he didn't know what it would do to her mind to have directly conflicting orders from her Masters. Secondly, he was reminded of one of the first things he'd learned about the Fey. As long as you believe, lots will be possible.

"Sure. No problem." Elle smiled approvingly at his sudden confidence.

"You got it."

"Yeah." Although trusting her didn't mean the flight was pleasant in the least. Nick clung to her for his dear life while they passed the countryside so fast the wind was torn from his lungs. It would have been fun if he hadn't been worried about his Captain and about falling to his death every instance. When they landed in front of the inn, saying he was relieved would have been an understatement.

"Let's not do that again anytime soon."

"As you wish."

"Nick? Nick!" Juliette stormed out of the house, throwing her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. He sighed into her hair, smelling her perfume and knowing that he was home again. Nothing ever came close to this wonderful feeling.

"Hi", he said belatedly after she had drawn away from him to get a look at his injuries. Juliette paled at the sight of his bruises, but he reassured him that they were superficial. He'd be alright in no time. Renard, on the other hand...

"He needs help. Medical help", Nick said and beckoned Elle to follow him upstairs, ignoring Juliette's surprised mien at her grown strength. His love gathered her wits quickly and closed the door behind them.

"It's a good thing Rosalee arrived yesterday!", she stated after they had placed the Prince on a bed and cut off his shirt. Trubel and Hank only glanced at the foul-smelling injury and excused themselves.

"He doesn't look so good", Monroe admitted when he came in, meeting Hank and the young Grimm at the door. He hugged Nick, staring at him strangely and muttering something about how Nick had finally done the right thing. Is it that obvious that I pledged myself to Renard? For a moment, Nick wondered how the Blutbad could have guessed, then his attention shifted back to his boss. The wound from Adalind's dagger itself wasn't life-threatening, it were the dark yellow lines that had crept around Renard's back that got everyone worried. Rosalee examined her patient while Nick informed the others about what had passed in the castle. The Fuchsbau was only distracted once when he explained about Elle being a Half-Winter fey, but she didn't comment on it, focused entirely on the Captain.

"It's not too bad", Rosalee announced into the silence, already mixing three kinds of herbs with some water. The resulting paste smelled heavily of mint and fizzled when she applied a generous portion. Renard twisted his face in discomfort, not waking up.

"This should help. I only hope that the infection hasn't reached too far yet, but as I see it, you brought him just in time. We can't move him yet and he'll sleep for a few days. Afterward he'll be as good as new."

"A few days?", Nick repeated worriedly. "We might not have that much time."


	12. Endgame

**Chapter twelve: Endgame**

Trubel and Rosalee were having a hushed conversation at the corner table of the breakfast room in the inn. The Fuchsbau had stood watch over Renard's sick bed the whole night and was now getting a late breakfast. Ever since she'd left the room, Trubel was shooting questions at her.

"And you are certain the journal said Feenvolk? Nothing else?", the Grimm was whispering, excitement written all over her features. Rosalee hid her smile behind her cup of coffee, but Trubel saw it. She didn't complain, too happy to care. Nick was going to be a Grimm again in no time!

"And you don't know how its done? It only said that the fey had to be bound to him?"

"And that you needed the wings of the Feenvolk for a ritual, yes", Rosalee repeated. Trubel snorted, her mouth full of delicious sweet bread. What luck that Elle had come along! Things would be alright in the end, Sean was getting better, Nick would be okay and she was staying. Nervously, Trubel took a moment to swallow before communicating her decision with the others. Everyone was present except the Prince and the fey, who had been asked by Nick to protect the Royal upstairs. Just when she had found the courage to address the issue, all the windows exploded. Argh! Worse timing ever! Unladylike, she cursed and broke off the leg of her chair.

"C'mere, you fuckers", she muttered grumpily, placing herself between the street and her friends. Screams were echoing off the crowded space, the other guests running in panic. Trubel shoved a woman out of the way as the first Wesen jumped through the broken glass and attacked. Twack! Her self-made weapon hit him straight in the chest, knocking him down. He retaliated with a mean kick, which she dodged. Before he could get back up again, she forcefully placed the chair leg in his groin and watched his face loose all color.

"That's what you get for messing with a Grimm!", she shouted, jumping onto the neighbor's table and smashing the vase for sound effects. Several of the intruders turned to her at the noise, exactly what had been the goal of her move. Quickly she surveyed the choices of weaponry. A solid glass full of apple-juice got turned into a football and was kicked across the room. It hit the target, an ugly Bauerschwein, at the base of its neck.

"Gotta love Scottish work of quality", Trubel commented and grinned when Hank gave her a thumbs-up. Then she used her leg of the chair as a baseball bat, giving an insect-like Wesen that had gotten too close to Juliette a good beating. Next came the cutlery cart. As fast as she could identify the targets, Trubel let the knives, forks and spoons fly. The trick of shouting something unintelligent like:

"Oh no, I'm defenseless!" and then hurling a knife at the unsuspecting monster seemed to be working best. She shook her head about so much stupidity. Then she saw the Prince of Scotland step into the room, advancing on Nick, who was battling a Hundjäger with a long piece of china. No way he could match the Royal's fighting. She had to help! Suddenly, she heard a creaking sound above her and jumped aside before claws slit the air where her head had been a moment ago. One of the attackers had climbed the wall and chosen to come at her from above. With a shock, Trubel recognized the Wesen from the paintings she'd seen in Nick's trailer.

"Mauvais Dentes!" The male bared its teeth and sprang at her again. Trubel rolled, shards of glass pushing into her skin. Her fingers found a butter-knife, grasping it desperately. I must look ridiculous, she thought, raising the small weapon in a defensive stance. But Nick would be fine, he could always call Elle down when he got in trouble. Right? Her moment of indecision nearly cost her life, because the Mauvais Dentes chose this moment to lunge.

"Shit!" Claws met metal, sparks flew and Trubel had to step back to save her skin. On the table next to her lay a fork, which she took in her left hand. Two not working daggers against a trained killing machine. Just great.

"Elle?" Was that Nick's voice? And where was fucking Tinkerbell when you needed her? Crap, here he comes again! This time, the claws got her. A cut appeared on her shoulder, luckily not very deep. Enough to make her angry, though. Trubel tapped deep into her ancestors' heritage, pulling every trick out of her sleeve. Things she had learned on the street, things Nick had taught her and things she hadn't even known she could do. All together, it was barely enough to keep up. Back and forth they fought, exchanging blows and, in Trubels case, a lot of insults. In fact, the girl was getting ready for another verbal punch in the gut when she slipped on the wet floor.

"No!" All at once, she was sitting on the slabs, the beast on top of her. Instinctively, Trubel pulled her knees to her chest and catapulted the Mauvais Dentes off her as soon as it came close.

"Aaah!" It had gotten her boot, leaving a deep scratch on her foot in the process. Trubel rolled to her feet, readying herself for another attack. Only then did she notice the ghostly silence in the inn, which was only broken by dull sounds from the first floor. During the landing, the Mauvais Dentes had impaled himself on the frame of an iron bar stool and the rest of the fighting had died down as well. Hank, Monroe and Juliet were in the corner, staring at...

"Oh, crap." Prince Alistair of Scotland stood above a stunned Nick, his rapier held high. He was going to kill him any moment.

"Let go of him!" It should have been her voice, Trubel thought, so self-assured and in control. But it wasn't. A dark hooded figure stepped through the window, pointing something at the Royal.

"You brought a gun to a sword fight? Now that's plain cheating", the Prince said slowly. Monroe smiled at the newcomer, saying she'd arrived just in time. As Alistair stepped back, Nick rose to his knees, watching the dark person in shock.

"Mum?"

"Hey, Nikki." So this was Nick's mysterious mother, Kelly, Trubel thought. Somehow she wasn't surprised the woman was a bad-ass. She was now ordering the Prince to leave and not come back, which the man actually did. Wow, points for authority.

"Where is Elle?", Nick asked, carefully touching a cut on his forehead.

"You told her to protect Sean", Kelly guessed. At the same moment, the door on the first floor was blown off its hinges and another Mauvais Dentes fell down the stairs. Its body was broken and covered in bite marks. Seconds later, Elle appeared from the room, wearing a satisfied expression. Trubel admired her entrance, although the frozen blood on her face and the wild look in her eyes were kind of unnerving. Meanwhile, Kelly had come up to her.

"You're Nick's mum, the Grimm", Trubel said in place of an introduction and would've liked to hit herself. Thank you, Captain Obvious! But Kelly nodded, shaking Trubel's outstretched hand.

"And you're the girl my son told me so much about, also a Grimm. Good. Now that this is settled, let's get back to Portland, shall we?" Trubel gaped in amazement. What a woman!


	13. Aftermath

**Chapter thirteen: Aftermath**

They were assembled in Renar'd apartment, sharing a bottle of expensive whiskey. Nick, his mother and Trubel were residing on his black leather couch while Elle had preferred a tailor-seat on the floor. They were having a mild discussion about the fate of Alistair, mostly sharing the opinion that he'd be put to death by Viktor or another of his bloodthirsty relatives. Sean wasn't as convinced about that theory, because things might not have worked out this time, but it had been by a hair's breadth on several occasions and Alistair had powerful friends in Vienna. He'd worry about it tomorrow, though. This evening, Renard was sitting in a chair behind his desk, idly watching the cars pass by outside. Innocent humans, his to protect. Not like Nick.

"Your pledge wasn't indefinite, was it? You didn't just swear an oath, you took up my offer from when we met at your place last week", Renard said a little off topic. Had it only been a week? So much had changed...

"Yeah, that's about it", Nick agreed, not having the decency to look guilty. Renard couldn't blame him, he'd always known that there would be risks involved in his generosity. What truly mattered wasn't the oath, it was the the fact that Nick had started to trust him and would not be disinclined to work with him in the future, Renard reasoned, patiently placing his hands on the table.

"So, basically he's your servant as long as he's human?", Trubel interjected, earning nods from every direction. She seemed thoughtful, no doubt analyzing the relationship between Renard and his Detective. The Prince smiled inwardly. He'd have to watch that one.

"Hence he has to ask permission when he wants to do something important that might affect my interests as well. Like changing himself back into a Grimm, thereby nullifying the pledge", Renard stated. Nick seemed bothered by his neutral account of things. Why? He had to have known what Renard's answer would be. However, the Prince wasn't willing to let him off the hook that easily.

"Ask." Nick actually stood up, faced and formally addressed him.

"Your Highness, Prince Sean Renard of Portland, would you allow me to try this weird changing ceremony Rosalee has read about?" Okay, not perfect in form then. Never mind.

"Yes."

"Well, thanks, I guess." Kelly chuckled and came to her feet next to her son, placing her full glass on the floor. She didn't have to say anything, the humor in her eyes conveyed the message.

"Go ahead, leave." Renard winked at her, then leaned back majestically and watched his three Grimms head for the exit. The Winter-fey followed silently, but Renard held her back.

"Elle."

"Yes, Master?"

"When this is over..." And that would be sooner rather than later, "We're even. You debt has been paid." Elle blushed deeply, grinning and shaking her head but being unable to contradict her Master. She wouldn't bind herself to him after what they'd been through, but it was good to know that he still had an ally in Scotland. The door falling shut behind her now wouldn't be the end.

Thirty minutes later, Nick's car was parked in front of an abandoned warehouse next to the docks. It was a lonely area, smelled of rotting fish and looked like the overflowing trashcan at the and of the road.

"And this is supposed to be the Place of Power?", Trubel inquired nervously. Not what she'd been expecting at all when Nick had told Elle to take them to the grounds for the ritual.

"What will happen once we're inside?", she asked, seizing up the girl.

"Nick will lie down in the... let's call it water. The ones of his kind – Kelly and you – will be seated on the East and West of him. Then I will call upon the sacred powers of Winter... or something. I've never done this either, I've just been told when I was a kid." Sacred powers of a warehouse? This was nuts. Trubel folded her arms and was about to bail when Nick opened the door. The hope on his face compelled her to stay, although the inside of the place wasn't spectacular at all. Dirty stones, trash, a chain hanging from the ceiling. Soon they stood at the entrance, unsure what to do. Except Elle, who breathed in deeply and Woged. For the first time Trubel had known her, she seemed perfectly at ease.

"Mas... er, Nick, may I take command for a while?"

"Sure."

"Close your eyes and hold hands, all of you." As soon as they did, Trubel could feel something like sand brush over her closed lids, then her surroundings changed. It had gotten colder.

"One step forward." Suddenly her feet were sinking in... snow? Involuntarily, Trubel opened her eyes, shivering. They were still standing in the warehouse, only that it was completely frozen. Frost covered the rough metal walls, icicles were glistening at the ceiling and the air was arctic. It all seemed to be originating from a pond in the middle of the floor. White crystal flowers bloomed next to it.

"Awesome." Elle smiled at her, taking Nick's hand. Kelly had opened her eyes as well, only her son had proven discipline. Together they skirted around the pond's edges, the fey motioning for Trubel and Kelly to sit down. Then she pushed Nick onto the water. Instead of sinking in, the fluid supported his weight.

"This feels really strange."

"Trust me. Lay down." Elle's voice had become kind of hypnotic, Trubel thought and relaxed. Nick stretched his long legs on the water, his head being held by the waves.

"Grimms, put your hands into the water." No. The eerie calm of the pond seemed dangerous, Trubel instinctively jerked away from it. For Nick. Do it for Nick. Slowly she placed her hand on the surface, which offered no resistance to her touch at all. It felt like plain old water.

"Now what?", Trubel whispered, but something was already happening. White vines were spreading from Elle's fingertips, which were also touching the pond. Soon Trubel's hands were engulfed by ice, held immobile and calming her at the same time. It was the strangest of feelings to watch the plant grow further, across Nick's whole body.

"Don't be afraid." Why would she be...?

"Ouch!" A tiny thorn had broken her skin, drawing a drop of blood. In an instance, the whole plant vibrated in deep red.

"Now help me." Who? What was Elle talking about? The Feenvolk had raised her hands above her head in a caricature of prayer. No, she was touching her own wings. Before Trubel's eyes, the wings grew colorless and completely transparent while a silvery substance gathered in the girl's palm.

"Cleanse." Forcefully Elle pressed her hands on Nick's chest, who screamed as thousands of tiny thorns pierced his flesh. Trubel winced in sympathy. This ritual sucked, though she had to admit that it was a mesmerizing sight. The plant was now turning black, leaves rotting and falling soundlessly to the ground of the pond.

"Nicholas Burkhardt!" There was so much urgency in her voice that Nick's eyes snapped open. Elle held out a hand and he gripped it blindly. Swiftly she pulled him up, spinning him one-hundred-eighty degrees in the process. The plant shattered, emitting a wail that sounded scarily human. Trubel put her hands on her ears, blinking hard. When her eyes refocused, they were sitting on the dirty warehouse floor.

"What the heck?" How much of this facade had been her imagination? Was she drunk? And what about Nick? He was breathing hard, flexing his hands. His lips curled into a smile.

"Guys? I think this worked!" When he opened his right hand, a blinking coin fell to the ground.

Nick caught the coin before it touched the dusty floor, reveling in the reflexes of a Grimm. The world seemed to fall back into place as his body got rid of a shackle he hadn't even felt. It was back. Good or bad, he was a Grimm. Nick smiled, examining the token in his hands. Even with just the flickering lamplight from the street he could now see the tiny inscription on both sides of the coin.

_Take my love, take my land  
Take me where I cannot stand  
I don't care, I'm still free  
You can't take the sky from me._

And on the other side:

_Take me out into the black  
Tell them I ain't comin' back  
Burn the land and boil the sea  
You can't take the sky from me._

"The Ballad of Serenity?", he asked, hiding the amused tone of his voice. She replied in kind, trying to shield her giggling behind a shrug and a longing look.

"Who doesn't love Firefly? I was a huge fan when the time to choose a token came." Of course Nick couldn't ignore the simple fact that the coin had reappeared at this moment. It probably meant that it was time to give it back, so he opened his fingers and offered it to the girl. As soon as the metal touched her skin, her Woge changed into the weak Woge of an Eisschatten. Elle blushed.

"We're going to wait at the door", his mother stated and pulled Trubel along. Nick waited until they were out of earshot, then he cleared his throat.

"So this is it. You're free to go."

"And so are you", she answered, stepping from one foot onto the other and studying the ground. Nick reached out to touch her, then thought the better of it.

"What was wrong with your wings?", he asked instead. They had seemed lifeless and fragile, like they were made out of glass.

"Nothing, I just pulled the Feenstaub out of it. Won't be flying anywhere for a few months, but as I'm not bound at the moment... who cares?" Her voice died down and Ciel wrung her hands. Nick didn't know how to console her. While they had been connected, he'd known how to behave, but now the situation felt uncomfortable.

"I should go", she said as if she'd read his mind for a last time. Her footsteps were still light, thought not as sure as before. Just before she turned around the corner, he called out to her.

"What does your real name mean?" Nick could hear her laugh ringing through the dark.

"It's the French word for sky."

**THE END**

**A/N:**

So, what did you think? Did you like it? Hate it? Found it mildly entertaining?

Any theories about what happened to Alistair or Adalind?

Rate and Review, please!


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